


Follow The Leader

by Tridraconeus



Series: Strange Bedfellows [3]
Category: Warframe
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Crossfaction, Dubious Consent, Gags, Groping, Humiliation, M/M, Medical Kink, Orgasm Denial, Spider Gag, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, deep brain stimulation, invasive surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridraconeus/pseuds/Tridraconeus
Summary: “Well, well, well. I knew my new vaults would have you Betrayers crawling through the vents. You’re so.... predictable."Nitzan scoffed and transferred out of Loki, resigned to Alad’s brand of condescension that permeated every conversation with him, no matter how grateful— or helpful— he was, except if he transferred out he could give it back. He should have just activated his invisibility again and ran to the extraction zone. “What do you want, Alad?”
Relationships: Alad V (Warframe)/The Operator (Warframe)
Series: Strange Bedfellows [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641583
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	Follow The Leader

**Author's Note:**

> Not underage. This one goes out to the Alad fuckers, godspeed to all of you.  
> originally I was operating on the assumption that each of Nitzan's bad sex decisions took place in an au but fuck it, all of them are canon here. another important note is that I put dubcon in the tags jic someone unfamiliar with WF reads this; Nitzan can fuck on off to the Void whenever he so chooses and has kicked Alad's ass multiple times before this.

Jupiter had been outfitted with new security measures. Nitzan, as any good self-respecting Tenno, took it upon himself to crack the vaults for whatever information they held, no matter how useless.

He took Loki. The frame was reliable and familiar to use, invisibility a comforting second skin. It must have dropped at an inopportune time; just as soon as he exited the last in a sequence of vaults, his comm. cracked and a screen embedded in the wall lit up.

“Well, well, well. I knew my new vaults would have you Betrayers crawling through the vents. You’re so.... predictable.”

Nitzan scoffed and transferred out of Loki, resigned to Alad’s brand of condescension that permeated every conversation with him, no matter how grateful— or helpful— he was, except if he transferred out he could give it back. He should have just activated his invisibility again and ran to the extraction zone. “What do you want, Alad?”

Warframe parts? Always, but there’d been an uneasy truce where he scavenged only the frames that were busted beyond belief, and he wasn’t torturing frames anymore. Still, Nitzan didn’t bring Valkyr to Jupiter for a reason.

“I have a gift for you, Tenno.”

“Right.” Like Nitzan believed that. What did Alad V think he was, stupid? The answer to that was undoubtedly yes. “What kind of gift?”

“A reward, for ridding me of that thing.” Alad smiled. Nitzan crossed his arms.

“A reward, huh? I don’t think you know what I want.” He knew better than to give Alad ideas, by now. He’d been an enemy once. A tentative ally, now, though who ever knew how long that lasted. The only side Alad was definitely on was his own, and while Nitzan couldn’t necessarily blame him he was still allowed to be annoyed when it inconvenienced him.

“I think I do.”

 _That_ was unmistakably a challenge and Nitzan, despite himself, laughed. “Alright. Do your best, V.”

“Yes, yes.”

Void, Nitzan wanted to wipe that smug look off of his face. He nodded curtly instead, curling his lip. Alad leaned back just far enough to appear as if he were looking down on Nizan, shoulders moving in a way to make it obvious that he was crossing his arms, pleased with his own intelligence and wit.

“I recommend you watch your back, Tenno. Or don’t even bother. It’ll be more fun that way.”

Void. Again. He was annoying, but he was smart, and Nitzan was curious despite himself. He flashed Alad a simple hand sign before transferring back into Loki; one that was common during the Old War, and while Alad probably didn’t know what it meant, it was definitely clear that it wasn’t complimentary. He activated Loki’s invisibility and bounded off through the long Jovian halls, putting the strange conversation behind him.

*

A month passed, long enough for Alad’s promise and implicit threat to fade into the background of Nitzan’s thoughts; losing priority and weight as time passed. Nitzan avoided Jupiter in that time. Not on purpose— he just had no reason to go there.

Or maybe he did, and didn’t like it.

Or maybe he did like it, and didn’t like that he liked it?

He didn’t know what to think when it came to Alad V.

He returned to Jupiter to answer a distress call. One of Suda’s operatives had been nabbed trying to get some of the new Amalgam tech Alad was working on in an attempt to appease the insatiable Cephalon; it was easy to crack the code that let him into the jail, and even easier to break the operative out.

When the operative started off towards the extraction zone without even needing to follow him, well, that made him suspicious, but not suspicious enough to avoid the pendulous dance of Void-dashes that carried him across the Gas City’s wider gaps. He came to a stop at the end of a suspended platform, taking a brief look down into the swirling gas.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

The operative had to jump carefully and take the ziplines placed in strategic places for maintenance crews, and touched down next to Nitzan as soon as he stopped talking.

“Without a hitch,” the operative replied in similar good humor. 

“Not what I would say.” Nitzan smiled, turning to lead the operative down the abandoned hall. He should transfer back into Loki, but it felt good to stretch his legs and the frame was safely sequestered away where it wouldn’t be found until he recalled it to himself. 

He felt a prick in the exposed strip of his neck. 

“—hey?”

“I did say without a hitch.” The operative was at his shoulder, holding some sort of pin in his neck. A syringe? A dart? He was being tranq’d, wasn’t he, like an unruly Virmink. Whatever was in it made him feel slow, and the whole world around him felt slow too, blue lights slurring into streaks in his vision. His body felt fuzzy and numb, and as pissed as he was at the operative— probably not one of Suda’s, he was beginning to realize— the grey-clad menace was the only reason Nitzan didn’t meet the floor hard, and was careful not to injure him. 

He muttered a curse, consciousness fading away to the echo of the operative’s laugh. 

*

He woke up feeling stiff and sore, body propped in an awkward position. He tried to cry out— he couldn’t, voice coming out mangled and wordless. He tried to close his mouth, and couldn’t. His mouth was held open by a metal contraption with struts that extended onto his cheeks. 

“You’re far more agreeable when you can’t talk.”

 _Alad_ , Nitzan thought first, and then second, _smug rat bastard._ He growled, trying to shake his head and finding it impossible. Metal struts pressed up against his temples from the table— chair— some sort of device, and more strips held his head immobile. More bands of metal circled his torso and belly, magnetized to the table. His thighs right above his knee were secured with tough polymer straps, as were his ankles and wrists. His legs were spread and up in stirrups— he could see the bend in his knees. 

He was naked, too. That drifted into his awareness about the same time as he woke up enough to realize that the room was cold. Fortunately, he was covered from shoulder to groin in a light blue medical sheet. Unfortunately, it was stopped by his bent legs and so did nothing to actually preserve his modesty, and it didn’t keep him warm at all either. It was just… there.

He was starting to think that maybe he should sink into the Void and escape before some weird shit happened to him. 

“Fuck you!” Nitzan snapped, but since he was gagged it sounded more like _Uh ooh!_ , and he managed to get spit all over his chin despite being on his back. His cheeks flushed with heat, and he tried to look away, forgetting too soon that he couldn’t. Alad chuckled and wiped his face with a cloth. 

“Mind yourself, Betrayer.”

Nitzan whined. 

“I imagine you’re curious as to what situation you’ve found yourself in,” he continued after a moment, setting the cloth down on a table just out of Nitzan’s view. When he didn’t go on after a few moments, Nitzan realized he wanted a response. 

The shame was the point, he supposed, but awareness of it didn’t lessen the sting. Nitzan mumbled out a curious noise, swallowing vigorously after so he didn’t slobber all over himself again. Disgusting. 

Alad touched his forehead, tracing back until he hit the crown of Nitzan’s head. “I took the liberty of... adding some things to your brain while you were unconscious.”

Nitzan tried to jerk again despite the fact that apparently— evidently— Alad had put things in his brain. Again, the restraints at every point on his body held him fast. 

“They’re leads, Tenno. When I activate the current, it will stimulate some very specific areas of your brain. Reward pathways, simply put. Even more simply put, so you can understand it, it’ll feel good and you’ll like it.”

Nitzan tried to respond again, Alad’s name mangled through his prised-open jaw to something more like _Awaaah_. 

“Does that sound agreeable to you?” 

When Alad hung back, not touching him or doing anything else, Nitzan realized it was an actual question. They both knew he could leave if he really wanted to, leads or not— the Void would heal the damage as if it had never happened. Nitzan doubted that there was damage at all. Alad could be a monster, but he was impeccably precise when he wanted to be, and Nitzan felt no pain or discomfort save for what he inflicted upon himself.

Alad _had_ mentioned a reward, Nitzan distantly remembered, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already propositioned other people who should be his enemy. Who were his enemy, actively, even. Compared to that, Alad was an improvement, a fact that he willingly recognized did not help his case. He was already fucked to want to fuck so many of his enemies— and more fucked to think that it was even a little nice that it was the other way around this time even if Alad’s attempt was clumsy and treated consent as more of an afterthought than a necessity.

He _had_ told Alad to do his worst. The deranged scientist probably took that as all the consent he needed.

He slurred out an affirmative. Alad made a small, amused noise in the back of his throat and stepped to his side again, pulling the medical blanket off of him and throwing it to the far counter. Under the blanket, Nitzan’s full-body blush was a hot weight— his skin tightened and prickled as the cold air of the lab hit it and he uselessly tried to squirm, succeeding only in bringing Alad’s hand close to rest on his side, stroking him.

“Worried? This will feel good,” Alad repeated. 

Nitzan believed him. Without the actual experience he’d been promised, it was a weak and shaky belief. 

Alad clicked some sort of button, and all of a sudden Nitzan’s body exploded in pleasure. It spread from his hole upwards, from Alad’s hand over his chest. Immediately, he felt himself get wet. It drew an agitated noise from his throat— he’d never gotten wet that fast before, and never so intensely. He suddenly understood why he was gagged. His jaw clenched, and he would have snapped his own tongue right off if his mouth hadn’t been forced open. His mind skipped, scattered, came back when Alad rested a hand on the inside of his thigh.

With the insistent current from the leads, something as simple as Alad cupping and squeezing the inside of his thigh felt amazing. His hole clenched and— shamefully— he felt a dribble of wetness trail down the crease of his ass.

If he twitched his lower body in a particular way, he could get his hips to lift from the chair a bit. The slightest touch to the sensitive insides of his thighs set his hole to pulsing, clenching and needy, and he hoped Alad would get the picture and touch him there or put something in him. He had been thinking about something before the leads turned on. He couldn’t ever hope to grasp it now with how occupied he was with this new riot of sensation and desire. 

Alad drew a single knuckle from the inside of his knee, up his thigh, brushing ever so slightly over the strip of skin between his ass and his hole, down the other thigh to the other knee. 

It was incalculably cruel. Nitzan wanted something in him. He wanted more touch. Alad repeated the gesture, just as feather-light as before, and Nitzan moaned.

Again, and the moaning crested to a cry. Again, and again, until Nitzan was wailing freely at the tortuous caress. 

Alad’s hand settled on the bared skin above his ass. Nitzan keened and tried to twitch into the touch— to force Alad’s hand further. Alad rewarded him with a healthy squeeze but nothing more.

“No, no. Unlike that brute of a Grineer, I don’t... insert myself into my experiments.”

Nitzan could have cried. He did cry a little, again wailing incoherently past the mess of metal in his mouth, tears of frustration and need pricking the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t thrash with how thoroughly he was secured; internally, a part of him worried that Alad had done this before. To someone else. Was he scared on their behalf? Was he _jealous_? His thoughts abruptly returned to how much he needed Alad to touch him, and any unsure noises were drowned out by the hungry ones. Alad hushed him and put a hand on his belly, stroking him as if he were an anxious Kubrow. Even that ostensibly calming touch did little more than make him burn with need. “Shh. You’ll get what you want, Tenno. This _is_ a reward.”

The current stopped. The pleasure edged away from its unbearable plateau, simmering down until he was still needy but could think, but also he didn’t want to think because the only thoughts he could manage were about how wet he was and how much he wanted something in his hole. Alad lifted his hand and walked from Nitzan’s view again. 

He couldn’t loll his head to the side with the bracing around it, but he could strain his eyes to see the blurry impression of Alad puttering around at the laboratory cabinets. He heard the snap of latex and realized that Alad was putting on gloves.

Fucking gloves? Was Nitzan that dirty? He made a disgruntled noise and drooled on himself a little more, and only managed to stop himself after the first few pathetic mewling noises. 

“There is protocol, you know.” Void, his voice. Nitzan wanted to tear his throat out by the vertebra, hold him up and shake him a little bit until he stopped being such a dick. If he had Loki with him, he probably could. For now, though, he was restrained and incapable of doing more than showing his displeasure through unintelligible grumbling. 

Alad was quickly forgiven when he prodded at Nitzan’s front hole and pushed in to the first knuckle. The grumbling turned to a strangled coo and Nitzan, unable to buck down on it, had to simply clench as hard as he could around the slight intrusion. Being unable to influence the pace at all hurt, somehow, his helplessness in the whole situation ramping the sensation up to an almost physical pain. His belly burned, and the only stimulation he could really get was what Alad wanted to give him. Frustrating. Exciting. He was panting, back of his head straining against the tough padding he was secured to. With the latex glove, Alad’s finger felt much different than a cock, or even one of the toys he could buy from specialty stores, or his own fingers. Slicker. Weirdly sticky, though not in a bad way. Noisy and wet-sounding. That was normal. Nitzan didn’t want to see what he looked like down there. 

Slowly and by degrees, he allowed himself to relax and take in the sensation. Relaxing his jaw didn’t do much except make it twinge as a reminder to how strongly he’d been fighting the gag. A pointless endeavor, but it made him feel like he was doing something. 

“What about in here?” Alad’s slick finger prodded at his ass. Nitzan yelped at the clinical, purposeful touch. Sure, he’d stuck a finger up there once or twice, but he’d gotten bored soon after and moved on to more directly rewarding pastures. 

“How about now?” Alad’s free hand left his vision, the current flipped on again, and the unremarkable touch blossomed into a line of fire circling his asshole. The streaks of slick Alad’s finger left behind tingled and burned as the cool air of the laboratory dried them. Suddenly, Nitzan needed Alad’s finger in his ass, or he thought he’d go mad. He moaned and tensed in the restraints, feet flexing and hips twitching with what space they had to move. 

Alad chuckled and obliged him. The finger pressed into his ass, the breaching movement sending shocks of pleasure straight to his hole. Another thick gob of slick dripped from his hole. When Alad brushed it up with a free finger, the drag of the latex glove against Nitzan’s heated skin drew another wild, loud moan from him. 

The current turned off when Alad found a slow, almost gentle pace. Nitzan wasn’t too concerned about the loss of that tormenting pleasure— how strange it was, to need it dearly when he felt it, and to not care about it when it left— with Alad’s finger probing deeply into him. It was a strange sensation, but not a bad one. The friction was a hot, wet slide that felt undeniably good after a few more moments of Nitzan deciding whether he liked it or not. 

“And I have something else for this hole,” Alad spoke again, breaking into Nitzan’s hedonistic reflection. His finger drew out and Nitzan whined; his ass felt terribly empty, and he clenched down on nothing. It got him nothing but the weakest shivers of pleasure. 

Something blunt and cold pressed against his rim, pushing in with little fanfare. Nitzan mouthed out a few high-pitched mewling noises and uselessly wiggled his hips. Whatever it was, it pushed him open by degrees; slowly at first, slightly thicker than Alad’s finger, then much thicker, until finally it slid the rest of the way in him with little resistance and settled deep inside of him. It felt deep. Logically, he knew it was secured outside of him somehow. He felt the material of it against his rim, seeking more of the strange, good sensation and clenching his hole around the toy. A dribble of wetness on his chest surprised him; it was his own spit, having dripped from his chin all the way down his neck and to his throat without his awareness. The pleasure twisted itself up with hot, prickling shame. He made a pathetic whimpering noise that cracked into a moan as his ass contracted around the plug again. 

“Relax, Tenno,” Alad reminded him. The current flipped on again and Nitzan’s shame dissolved once more into mindless, burning pleasure. The weight in his ass suddenly felt heavenly; the drying line of spit down his chin burned with the heat of his skin and the cool air of the lab, and the soft texture of the cloth Alad used to wipe him felt like a thousand tiny fingers dragging against and caressing his skin— each point of contact uniquely pleasurable. His hole was dripping wetness to a truly obscene degree.

Vaguely, he knew that he was pleading with Alad to do something, and just as vaguely was grateful that he was too invested in his own pleasure to care about how mangled his words came out past the gag. 

Alad finally set the cloth to the side and pushed a finger into Nitzan’s hole again. He didn’t have to try very hard; Nitzan’s hole was wet and needy, made accomodating by arousal. As fervently as he tried to buck up into the sensation there was nothing he could do that made the slow drag of Alad’s finger any more bearable; it felt good, far better than it should by virtue of the leads, but it wasn’t enough. 

Alad inserted a second finger alongside the first and spread Nitzan’s hole, his other hand rubbing the inside of Nitzan’s thigh. The twin sensations of a sudden stretch and the plug in his ass shifting as he squirmed made him squeal, trembling in the restraints. Alad began to finger him properly, deep in-and-out movements that were slow but still satisfying. The latex gloves didn’t give him much by way of texture but Alad had nimble, skilled hands that sought out spots inside of Nitzan that were made even more sensitive by the stimulation of the leads. Nitzan just wanted him to go faster.

Even so, the weight of the plug and the steady movement of Alad’s fingers was bringing him closer to a height. He didn’t sound frustrated anymore now that he was getting most of what he wanted; he was moaning, utterly fixated on an approaching climax.

A climax that _didn’t come_ as Alad withdrew his fingers, dragging them down Nitzan’s thigh instead. Nitzan growled. He wanted to say something, wanted to curse him out and demand that he make him come, but he knew it would do nothing but amuse Alad and make him look pathetic. He twitched his hips uselessly against the metal table a few times and then moaned again in despair, falling still. The possibility of orgasm fizzled away back to a lower-level burn of desire. 

Alad nudged his hole again. He whined encouragingly and strained to look at him. Finally, Alad thrust a finger inside of him. Then another, and a third, the leads making Nitzan feel as if he could feel every ridge of skin past the latex barrier of the glove. The warmth of Alad’s hand was nothing compared to the furnace that arousal had made Nitzan’s hole, but the new insertion of three fingers was thick and solid enough that he didn’t care. Alad didn’t bother with teasing him this time, just settled directly into a steady rhythm that made Nitzan dissolve into moaning again. 

He was so close, again, and _fast_. His noises took on a decidedly anticipatory pitch as it seemed that perhaps Alad would let him come this time, but sure enough just as soon as he felt he’d finally had enough stimulation to come Alad withdrew his hand. 

His reaction was as violent as it could be, straining viciously against the restraints and clenching his teeth around the gag so hard he felt his jaw creak. Alad even had the gall to step away. 

“How are you enjoying your reward, Tenno?”

 _Not very_ , Nitzan wanted to say, and managed instead an ill-tempered whine. Alad chuckled and smoothed his hand down Nitzan’s chest. Even that, though it felt amazing, did little to get him close to his peak. 

Once again Alad waited until he was nowhere near climax to finger him again, this time directly spreading him open with three fingers and not even bothering with an exploratory pump. He was already familiar with Nitzan’s body; he went faster, more targeted, pressing against Nitzan’s walls in just the right way to make his moans build almost into a scream. His need built even faster— there was no way to avoid it, and certainly no way to control it. Once again, he allowed his desire to get ahead of what he already knew would happen. Alad’s hand left him, this time taking a string of slick with itself that snapped and dropped against Nitzan’s ass.

He didn’t even have the will to protest it, knowing that Alad would be back, though not soon enough; to his own surprise what he intended to be a defiant growl hitched in the middle, coming out as something much closer to a desperate sob. He’d come into this assuming he’d be allowed to keep _some_ of his dignity. 

Evidently not. Alad pet his chest, tweaking a nipple before tracing the lines of Void scars as Nitzan’s near-climax haze faded away yet again. “What is it, Tenno?” 

Nitzan cried out. He just wanted to come, and Alad wouldn’t _let_ him. The whole experience was torturous, but he wanted more, just under wanting Alad to make him come. 

Alad’s hand brushed his cheek. He was crying. He was so strung-out and needy and pathetic that he was _crying_. When he tried to make a noise other than cracked, hitching moans and cries he couldn’t. 

“I’ve made you suffer enough, haven’t I?” 

Nitzan knew better than to fall for the sympathy he heard. Alad liked to watch him suffer, and liked to be the one in charge of that suffering. As if he knew what he was thinking, Alad patted his cheek. “If I really wanted to be unkind, I would leave you here until you managed to come with only the plug in your ass.” 

More shame unfurled in Nitzan’s belly when he realized that he actually liked that idea. It was hot, in theory. If it was anything like this in practice Nitzan would rather fuck a Charger. At least he might get off then, and he could kill the damn thing after. 

Still, Alad returned to his hole after briefly repositioning the plug with a tap. Nitzan squirmed at the sensation of his fingers pushing into his entrance, smooth latex invading the length of his hole and stretching him again. Alad was slower this time. It was less to build Nitzan to a climax as quickly as possible and more to draw out the process. He paid special attention to a spot that made Nitzan jump in his restraints. 

The pleasure built again, a needy heat helped along by Alad’s clever fingers. Nitzan could see his chest heaving as he fought for breath, could see how impossibly tense his legs were in the stirrups they were locked into. 

He was _close_. He moaned out a warning, a plea, fighting the hopeful thought that maybe Alad would have mercy this time. 

“Come on, Tenno, I don’t have all day.”

His pace didn’t pick up but it felt different— more purposeful. Nitzan squealed as he hit a particular spot that made heat spark in his hole, then returned to pressing and stretching him with firm, forceful movements. A few more seconds of that was enough to push him over the edge.

It was different from climaxes he’d had before. Those were usually quick and intense, a few waves of overwhelming pleasure, his hole clenching around his hand or a toy or a cock or nothing, but this was far longer and drawn-out— his hole clamped down hard around Alad’s fingers, none of the pulsing he was used to, and the pleasure spread over his whole body until he saw white for a few long seconds. He was shaking, most likely screaming out if the strain in his throat said anything. It was overwhelming, not just intense. 

He missed Alad removing his hand. He laid there, insensate, for a while; Alad was wiping him down, checking him for nonexistent injury, talking to him and telling him how fascinating of a performance he had given. He couldn’t be assed to respond to any of it. With the leads off, he suddenly felt heavy and sleepy and very, very satisfied. He couldn’t even muster any annoyance at Alad for teasing him.

“Hold still.” 

As if he could do anything else? Even without the restraints, he felt limp and lazy. Alad was poking about around his head— removing the leads, most likely. Nitzan laid still and let it happen. 

A few minutes later, Alad pat him on the shoulder and unbuckled the gag. He circled Nitzan on the table, unfastening the restraints one-by-one. 

“How are you feeling, Tenno?” 

“I’m fine,” Nitzan responded, because it would be rude not to. 

“Your clothes are on the floor over there.”

Alad pointed. Nitzan nodded. His jaw was sore, though rapidly fading to normal thanks to the void. 

After a few more minutes of puttering around in the lab and setting things back to normal, Alad tapped in an exit code and left. That meant either there wasn’t anything valuable for Nitzan to destroy or steal, or he didn’t think he would. 

Nitzan didn’t care enough to check which one it was. He gave himself another handful of minutes to breathe, center himself, and make sure he wouldn’t topple over like a newborn foal when he stood up. 

He was a little wobbly, but overall not _badly_. He stretched and looked around the area Alad had pointed to to locate his clothes— folded neatly beside a locked cryofridge. 

As he bent to pick up his clothes, an odd twinging sensation called his attention to his ass. A quick check with his fingers confirmed that the plug was still there— Alad had forgotten to take it out.

Maybe not forgotten.

Nitzan smiled to himself, got dressed, and left. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a kudos or tell me what you thought!


End file.
